


The Duel

by KoraSonata



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Blades, Cleo is a mess, Cub and Iskall are mentioned, Dom False?, F/F, False is a tease, Flirting, Hermitcraft - Freeform, Minecraft, Minor Injuries, Sexual Tension, Sparring, Swordfighting, Swordfighting is False’s love language, cheap tactics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29058174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraSonata/pseuds/KoraSonata
Summary: False convinces Cleo to act as her sparring partner, but when Cleo finally manages to pin the woman, False has to rely on a cheap tactic to win the match. Cleo doesn’t particularly mind. Much.
Relationships: FalseSymmetry & ZombieCleo, Falsesymmetry/ZombieCleo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	The Duel

**Author's Note:**

> Just a brief disclaimer, this might technically be considered a lack of consent in that permission is not explicitly asked for, but no one is upset about it. There is a brief mention of animal killing (aka passive mobs) but none that actually occur. Also minor bruising occurs, but nothing life threatening or permanent. 
> 
> I use the word “Kata” which is a Japanese term for “form” which is just a series of choreographed martial arts movements that are practiced alone. I’m only vaguely familiar with samurai style sword fighting and karate as a self defence martial art, and “Kata” can be used in both of these, but the characters don’t particularly use either of these styles when fighting each other, and there is only a very brief mention of False maybe using one of these styles in the past.

“Remind me why I’m here again?” Cleo questions as she is knocked to the ground for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. The redhead had been up since 8, her companion having woken up god knows how long before that, and as she begrudgingly picked herself up once again, the high rise of the sun indicating the stroke of noon, she can’t help wondering how she ever managed to get herself into this situation.

“We’re sparring!” False replies happily and simply, twirling her sword with a flare as she waits for her opponent to take her stance, an excited sort of gleam to her eye. False had always been an early riser, the woman having the frequent habit of taking her morning run - or in some cases, flight - at the crack of dawn. She was the type of person that rose with the sun, basking in the quiet of the morning twilight , where she would take advantage of her morning solitude to do the thing that False does best -  _Train_ .

She would often run the coast of the beach, or fly her elytra through the winding cliffs of the mountains, or stop upon the river bank to practice her form. Here she would wield her sword in a solo dance of elegant movement, or other times with no weapon at all, save her own two fists and feet, as she practiced the elegant kata’s of her vast plethora of martial arts forms. False enjoyed these activities, and this was how she always spent her mornings off. She had always been an early riser.

Cleo, on the other hand, was not.

“Yes, but  _why_ ?” The redhead complains, striding forward to meet False’s initial sword thrust with a parry, blocking the blow with a loud **_CLANG_** of metal.

For the life of her, Cleo could not see how anyone would ever find enjoyment in this. Her limbs ached, her body was covered with dirt, and she was fairly certain she had acquired multiple bruises from the amount of times False had knocked her over.

_Speaking of which..._

**_ FWUMP _ **

Cleo is knocked back by a foot colliding solidly with her chest, and the woman falls backwards towards the ground. False merely grins down upon her, and Cleo huffs, pushing herself from the sand beneath her, and climbing to her feet.

“ _Training_ , Cleo.” False replies. “I’ll never get any better if I don’t work at it. And you either use it or lose it.” She holds her sword at the ready, the redhead doing her best to mimic her movements, although looking by far the more disheveled and exhausted of the pair. In fact, they had been at this for almost 4 hours, and False looked to have little more than a hair out of place. “We’re  _practicing_ .”

“Wouldn’t you rather do this with Cub?” Cleo lunges forward, their swords clashing loudly as they begin the next round. “Or Iskall?”  _ Dodge, parry.  ** CLANG ** _ . “Or someone who’s actually good at PVP?”

Cleo was no stranger to the ways of the sword. She wasn’t squeamish about killing the passive animals unlike some, and against the other hostile monsters she could hold her own - She didn’t particularly have a problem with fighting at all, and she was by no means the worst swordsman amongst the other Hermits. Her bowman-ship might have been a different story, and really, if she was being honest, so was her other long-range weapon artillery, but she could handle a blade well enough for close combat.

But compared to False, she might as well have picked up her sword for the first time this morning.

“They aren’t nearly as fun.” False replies, blocking a blow expertly and pushing her back with the force of her sword. Cleo wobbles.

“And I am?”

False takes advantage of her weak stance, using her foot to sweep out her leg from under her, and Cleo is knocked to the ground with a thunk.

“Most definitely.”

Cleo huffs, climbing to her feet once more as she brushes the dirt from her clothes.“I fail to see how my subpar swordsmanship is somehow more fun.”

“Did you know that the skilled swordsman’s greatest opponent is the one who has never once held a blade?”

“Right. Great. Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.”

False turns to take her position once more, and Cleo rights herself, rolling her shoulders and cricking her neck, as if the movement will somehow expel the aches from the area. “You know, I don’t particularly think this is doing anything for your actual training if you aren’t actually, you know,  _learning_ anything from your opponent.”

False inspects her sword. “On the contrary, I’m learning plenty.”

“Go on then.” Cleo charges towards the woman in a rush, raising her sword while her attention is divided, hoping her quick recovery might catch the blonde by surprise and sway the odds. “Do te- _EELL_ !”

False knocks her back to the ground again.

Smiling, the blonde leans over, staring down at her coyly, and offers her a hand. “I’m learning plenty of new ways to knock you over.”

Cleo grumbles, begrudgingly taking the offered hand and allowing the blonde to pull her to her feet.

She straightens her shirt for what felt like the hundredth time, however there’s something different that happens during this occurrence. Instead of simply stepping back and waiting for her to put herself back together again, like she had done the times previous, False instead strides forward, allowing the side of her body to drag against Cleo’s as she passes.

Cleo pauses her movements as she goes, glancing sideways at the retreating form of False, towards the empty beach before them, and then back at False. There was enough space that the woman definitely had enough room to move freely without bumping into her, and indeed she hadn’t all those times before. And yet, this time she had? No, there was no way that move hadn’t been deliberate.

False merely turns, already raising her sword and correcting her footwork, looking for all the world like nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired. “Again.”

And it’s almost enough to make Cleo think she had simply imagined the whole ordeal, the redhead raising her own sword as the pair start their next bought of sparring. And indeed, this match had progressed much the same as all the ones previous. A jab here, a block there. Parry, parry, thrust. Nothing special, or out of the ordinary - It was just another sparring match.

Until it wasn’t.

Cleo is knocked back once again, the hilt of her sword slipping from her grasp, as she attempts to catch herself before she hits the ground. There was no stopping her fall, and she knew this, but maybe she could soften her landing, even if only slightly.

Her back hits the ground with a **_FWUMP_** , and Cleo stays down, breathing deeply as she catches her breath. The fall wasn’t enough to seriously injure her, and really the impact hadn’t particularly hurt that badly; she was almost used to it by now. It was more annoying than anything else, really. They had been at this all morning, and she was getting more than a little bit tired of being thrown onto her backside every five minutes. She lets out a long and purposefully over dramatic sigh, more for the sake of False than herself - just so the blonde knows she’s not really that hurt when she fails to stand again.

She knows the sound has its desired effect when False smirks. “Oh come on, I didn’t hit you  _that_ hard.” The blonde teases. Cleo only groans loader.

False smiles wider. “Come on. Again.”

And that’s when Cleo makes her first mistake.

“Haven’t you had enough yet?”

She props herself up on her elbows, maneuvering her body into a slightly more upright position as she looks over at False.

The woman in question now grinning very much like the cat who caught the canary.

“Awe, are you tired?” False smirks, striding across the sand to stand over her once more, digging the tip of her sword into the ground. She crouches before the felled woman then, movements slow, smooth, and deliberate, as she deftly reaches a hand forward to caress the fabric of clothing over her thigh. “ _ Must be difficult to beg on your knees in these shorts .” _

Cleo blinks.

_ Was that...is she... **flirting** ..? _

The redhead distractedly reaches for her sword, her hand blindly scouring the sand for its hilt, without taking her eyes off of the woman before her .  False smirks, Cleo finally finding her weapon, and the blonde stands, being sure to drag her hand along the length of her leg as she does.

“There’s a good girl.” She says in passing, striding across the sand to take her stance once more.

_She is! She’s flirting!_

The notion really shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise for Cleo. The pair had flirted on and off before, but it was usually her doing the instigating. False humoured her from time to time, but she was almost never the initiator. Now, though. Now it seemed the tables had turned.

“ _Again_.”

The sparring matches that followed were drastically different than the ones that had occupied the first 4 hours of their training session. Well, not so much drastic, as they continued to have the same outcome, but the energy had changed completely. False still continued to win, and Cleo still continued to be thrown onto her backside, but there was more to it now.

Their matches seemed longer, more drawn out, but not necessarily from a skill perspective. False would often overshoot her swings, just so she could drag the back of her hand up the length of Cleo’s arm when retracting her sword. She often stepped closer than was strictly necessary to block, or would offer a casual wink to distract her, or would engage her in flirtatious banter as she waited for the woman to stand once again, and once the blonde had even slapped Cleo’s ass with the flat of her sword as she had strode past to start their next match. Indeed, gone was the notion that False was somehow the submissive party in their relationship. Cleo might have had the upper hand in other aspects, but now False was in her element.

Not that any of her unnecessary exuberance ever impacted the outcome. False was still the far superior swordsman, and Cleo knew it. There was no way she would ever win like this, not without years of extensive training. False could predict her movements too easily. Maybe she just needed to be irregular...

Cleo parry’s a thrust from False and immediately kicks her foot towards the woman’s abdomen, hoping the sudden use of her feet might throw her off.

And that was mistake number two.

False doesn’t even miss a beat, immediately grabbing hold of her extended leg and pushing upwards, completely throwing off her centre of balance, and sending the pair crashing to the ground.

They both lose their sword in the process of the fall, more concerned about the impact of the ground, but it hardly mattered. False deftly grabs hold of the woman’s wrists, straddling her legs either side of her waist, and then Cleo was pinned. False smirks.

“You know, I’m starting to like the look of you on your back.” She releases one of the woman’s wrists to trail her middle finger lightly across the bridge of her nose, allowing the digit to dip off the point, where it comes to rest over the skin of her ever-so-slightly parted lips. False’s smile only grows as she feels the woman’s ragged breath ghosting over her fingertips. “So pretty for me.”

Cleo inhales sharply at the touch, but doesn’t move away. Instead, her body remains motionless as she stares intently into the eyes of her opponent. False grins, inching her own face closer, until their noses are almost touching, and Cleo stops breathing altogether. False maneuvers her hand so that her knuckles gently brush against the cold skin of the woman’s cheek, and she speaks in a voice just above a whisper. “What’s the matter? No fight left in you?”

False chuckles lightly, retracting herself once more as she gathers her own weapon in her hand and climbs to her feet. 

False points the tip of her sword towards her throat triumphantly, grinning in an almost teasing manner, as she cocks her head to the side. “Again.”

And Cleo’s not really sure what possessed her to do it. Whether the streak of losses had finally become too much for her ego, or her desire to win just  _once_ had finally driven her to act. Maybe it’s the knowledge that False had not been fighting at the top of her game for the last several matches, and maybe it’s a cop out to take her like this, because it’s almost not fair. There’s a part of Cleo that knows it won’t really count in the grande scheme of things, only because it’s such a cheap shot, and Cleo would have liked to beat her on her own terms, but there’s a larger part of her that simply doesn’t care anymore. And in a flurry of motion that even False could not have predicted, Cleo has kicked her legs out towards her opponent, knocking her off balance, and sending the blonde tumbling towards the ground.

And that was mistake number three.

False lands on her back with an audible **_THUMP_** , as Cleo quickly scrambles to maneuver herself in order to pin the woman down. Her legs come to straddle either side of her body, using her weight to keep her in place, and Cleo’s hands wrap securely around the woman’s wrists, pinning her arms to the ground. False struggles for a moment, but soon realizes that her efforts are futile, and she stops. Cleo smirks. “Pinned ya.”

She looks to be defeated, and Cleo is just starting to think that she had maybe finally outsmarted the other woman, when suddenly False does something that in the grande scheme of things really shouldn’t have surprised her. Given how False had been throughout the last several matches, it really shouldn’t have come as too much of a shock, and yet the action still takes her completely off guard.

False leans up and kisses her.

Cleo’s breath hitches in her throat as she involuntarily loosens her grip around the woman’s wrists in shock. Her first instinct is to pull back, more out of surprise than anything else, but False only chases her movements, never once breaking the connection between them. And it’s barely anything. Just closed lips pressed against her own, but  god damn it was  _doing_ things to her.

False pulls back then, with Cleo’s mind rendered incapable of doing anything but allowing her to blink owlishly down at the woman before her. But even then, only for a moment. Cleo doesn’t even have time to register the initial shock before False has closed the distance between them again and a new wave overtakes her.

And False is there, lying pinned beneath her, eyes closed and lips pressed up against hers, and Cleo is suddenly struck by just how necessary breathing really is in order to retain consciousness. 

And just like that, she feels everything at once. And she doesn’t know what to focus on. The feel of the soft skin beneath her fingertips, the warmth of the woman’s body pressed against her, the way their lips slant and meld together perfectly, like a warm putty being formed and shaped into the worlds most perfect puzzle piece. It’s soft and steady and almost innocent, and she can’t help but give in.

Cleo sighs deeply, allowing a hand to reach down and tangle its fingers in soft threads of blonde, as she surges forward and deepens the kiss.

And then it stops.

In one swift movement, False takes hold of her wrists and Cleo is flipped onto her back roughly. Her eyes fly open the moment their lips are no longer touching, and her wrists twist blindly around at the air in an effort to steady herself.

And just like that, their positions are reversed.

False sits up straighter, smirking, as she stares long and hard and with deliberation into the eyes of her companion. “Pinned ya.”

And Cleo is confident enough in her vocabulary to say that there are words somewhere inside of her, and her knowledge of their use and arrangements were extensive enough that she should have been able to form a coherent sentence when presented with this retort. And yet, she can’t. It’s somehow as if all of her words have left her arsenal, withered away or else have evaporated in a puff of smoke. And instead, she is left floundering, and all she can do is gape at the other woman and utter “I—you—what..?”

False smirks, making a show of swiping her bottom lip with the pad of her thumb and staring devilishly down upon her. “Like I said. You’re  _much_ more fun.” Cleo blinks. False grins. “First rule of sparring: never let your guard down.”

“I somehow think that was cheating.”

False shrugs. “You use cheap tactics, you get cheap tactics.”

“Yeah, but you’ve won like a billion times.”

“Ready for another go?”

Cleo reaches her arm upwards, cupping the woman’s face in response, and surging forwards to kiss her again. However, their lips had only just barely touched before False moves back, separating them, and Cleo lets out a legitimate whine.  _Cleo_ .  **_Whining_ ** .

“Ah ah ah, can’t use the same trick twice.” False tuts, retracting herself from the woman’s body as she stands once more. “I’m not falling for that.”

Cleo sighs. “Can’t I just yield, and call it that?” There’s a sort of playfulness to her gaze and stature as the woman leans forward expectantly. False had not missed the slight uptick to her tone, one that might have sounded eager if she were to think about it, but this playful front, one that is oh-so-congruent with Cleo’s character, was not particularly doing anything to hide the not-so-subtle hopefulness behind her eyes.

False’s smile only grows, leaning forwards to capture the redheads lips once more, giving in to the woman’s silent plea. Cleo immediately reaches a hand towards the woman’s face, as if to keep her there, surging forward as she sighs into the kiss. But only for a moment. False retracts herself mere seconds later, and Cleo is left chasing her movements. False smirks, a devilish glint to her eye.

“What fun would that be?”


End file.
